Part 40 (1/2)

Pen stopped the car broadside in front of the garage door. She set the brake, shut off the headlights, and turned to Bodie.

He lifted the shotgun out of the way. He put his arms around her and drew her gently against him. They kissed. He slipped his hands beneath the sweats.h.i.+rt, moved them up the velvety skin of her back.

'I wish we didn't have to go in there,' she whispered.

'We don't have to.'

Pen kissed him lightly, then eased herself away. She took the key from the ignition. She opened her door.

Bodie climbed out, taking the shotgun with him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

Pen stopped at the front door and searched through her keys with trembling fingers. 'I wish we knew whether Joyce is here,' she said.

'The garage have any windows?'

'No.'

She found the house key and opened the door. She started to enter, but Bodie put a hand on her shoulder. He stepped inside. Pen followed.

And heard Melanie's voice.

'a here alone, or I'll kill hera I don't think you want to do that. I've got a paper here that the cops would find very interesting.'

Pen silently shut the door and followed Bodie across the foyer.

'You'll see when you get here. You'd better make it quick. I'll kill her if you're not here in ten minutes.'

She hung up as they stepped into the den.

'Melanie?'

She turned around. 'The lovebirds,' she said, staring at them through strands of black hair. She stroked the hair away from her face, her fingertips drawing stripes of blood across her forehead. Her white blouse was untucked, its front smeared with blood as if she had used it repeatedly to wipe her hands.

'Oh, Mel,' Pen muttered, 'what have you done?'

With a smirk, she raised a sheet of paper.

Bodie took it from her and studied it.

'You guys would've let them get away with killing Dad.'

'They didn't kill him,' Pen said.

Melanie's lips quivered. 'You just wanted to take Bodie away from me. That was all you cared about. You didn't care what they did to Dad.'

'Of course I care,' Pen said, realizing that Melanie now seemed more coherent than she'd been when Bodie took her away from the apartment. More coherent, but no less crazy.

The girl's lips peeled up, a dog snarl that changed into a sick grin. 'You cared about spreading your legs.'

Bodie handed the paper to Pen. Its edges had b.l.o.o.d.y fingerprints. She read the shaky handwriting: This is my confession. I, Joyce Conway, conspired with Harrison Donner to murder my husband, Whit Conway. We were lovers behind his back. We wanted him dead so as to get his insurance and inheritance.

'That was Harrison you told to come over?' Bodie asked.

'Who else?'

'He'll probably show up with a G.o.dd.a.m.n SWAT team.'

'I don't think so.'

I let Harrison in on where and when we planned to have dinner and he waited in his car. When Whit started to cross the street, he hit him with the car.

It was a stolen car, as he didn't want to use his own.

Joyce's signature was scribbled at the bottom in the same handwriting as the confession.

'Where is she?' Bodie asked.

'Want to see her?' Melanie looked at her wrist.w.a.tch. It was Bodie's. 'I guess we have a few minutes.' She took the paper from Pen and stepped past them. As they followed her to the stairway, she glanced back. 'We'll have to hide before Harrison shows up. The element of surprise, you know.'

At the bottom of the stairs, Bodie looked at Pen. His face was gray. He took her hand. His fingers felt like ice.

They rushed up the stairs behind Melanie. She led the way along the corridor.

Pen knew they would find carnage. She felt lightheaded and numb. The lights seemed too dim. When she blinked, an electric-blue aura surrounded Melanie. Pen was nauseous. Just like Friday night, she thought, the mystery writers' meeting, the coroner's shock-show.

Post-mortem lividity, bite marks on the corpse's b.u.t.tock, the gray p.e.n.i.s of the dead man, fly eggs in the nostril.

I've gotta get out of here.

Fresh air.

Bodie stopped her at the door of the master bedroom. 'Wait here,' he said.

Pen leaned against the doorframe, her back to the room. Bodie let go of her hand. He stepped past her. Sliding down, Pen hung her head and stared between her knees at the carpet.

I shouldn't, she thought. Shouldn't let him face it alone. It'll help him if I'm there.

She forced herself to stand.

She heard nothing from inside the room.

Turning to the doorway, she saw Bodie and Melanie standing side by side. Their backs were toward her. Their bodies blocked her view of whatever they were looking at. Whatever? Joyce.

Pen walked slowly closer.